


Since I've Been Loving You

by BlueBeanBlueBean9916



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: #Jesus, Alternate Universe - 1970s, Buddy System season 2 Rhett & Link, Internalized Homophobia, Link Neal is beautiful, Link being thirsty but not realizing he is, Link is an engineer, Link's dad is kinda a dick, M/M, Part-time prostitution, Recreational Drug Use, Rhett McLaughlin is beautiful, Rhett works at a 24hr diner, Sadness, Stevie is a powerful lesbian and a boss bitch, an anxious boy, anxiety ???, drunk boys!, hippie meets yuppie, metions of non-con/violence, poor beat up boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-07-24 14:43:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 11,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16177205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueBeanBlueBean9916/pseuds/BlueBeanBlueBean9916
Summary: After the end of the Vietnam War, the world is in a weird place. Fall of 1976 finds Rhett waiting tables, hooking to pay his bills, and dreaming of being a musician. Link is simply following the life-path of least resistance, working an office job and telling himself he's happy. Their paths cross, and everything changes.





	1. Rocket Man

**Author's Note:**

> Okay y'all, I'm really excited about this! I've never written any Rhink (so please be gentle with me) or anything like this at all, honestly. I hope you like it, because I've been having a great time with it personally !
> 
> Just a heads up, the perspective changes every chapter between Link and Rhett. 
> 
> I have a playlist for this fic! It's at- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLHw9olZoiybOPcllt1Z9klP3XBJY0kbmj
> 
> Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link's living the dream !

Link Neal was a practical man, and he led a practical life. 

He lived in a clean, modern home, drove an environmentally and economically friendly car, and wore his hair and his clothes in whatever way the other men around his office did. Every morning he followed the same routine: wake up, shower, have a cup of coffee and eat his breakfast while reading the newspaper. He would then head into work at seven thirty on-the-dot so he always maintained a certain standard of earliness. 

Link was one engineer out of dozens at a local contracting firm. He worked a nine to five shift Monday through Friday, and pulled a liveable salary. He spent his lunch break making small talk around the water cooler and writing the next days to-do list in his cubicle. It was a very practical job, and he was quite lucky to be hired so soon after college.

Link considered himself to have an incredibly successful life, therefore he forced massive levels of positivity into his outlook. He sang along with the radio on his way home from work. While he was cooking dinner, he made sure to turn down the volume on the television if the evening news took a morbid turn and averted his eyes from the screen until it seemed safe to peek.

Yes, Link Neal led a very, very practical life. At night he hopped into bed in his plaid pajamas, his alarm set for six a.m., and curled up knowing his mother was right when she said he was blessed. There really was no better way to live.

And if lingering thoughts about the life he’d once wanted stirred in the back of his mind, he fell asleep far too fast to notice them.


	2. Immigrant Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another morning in paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to go ahead and post the first two chapters of this because they're both so short but the next one will be much longer !

Rhett McLaughlin woke to the sound of Led Zeppelin blaring from somewhere across the room, and his head throbbed. The bed shifted and the volume lessened to something more bearable for this time of day. An arm wrapped around his waist, quickly followed by the press of lips to the back of his neck, and he hummed sleepily in response.

“Mornin’ toots,” rumbled the man behind him. Rhett struggled to remember the guy’s name (Josh? John?) but drew a blank.

“Hey,” is what he settled on, figuring his name had also been forgotten somewhere around their third pitcher of beer the night previous. He rolled over, revelling in the feeling of satiny sheets shifting against his bare skin and pressed a kiss to the man’s lips. They exchanged lazy kisses for a short while, the nameless man content to knead Rhett’s ass in his well-manicured hands before he suddenly hoisted himself out of bed.

“I’m off to work now, so you might as well shimmy your sweet ass outta here. Unless you wanna stick around while I get ready, that is. I’m in a bit of a hurry though,” he spoke as he was tidying up the room, lifting discarded articles of clothing from the floor and tossing Rhett’s onto the bed. Rhett stood and tugged on his briefs and loose-fitting pants.

“Lemme take a piss real quick, then I’ll be outta your hair,” he said, stepping past the other man and yanking his shirt over his head. He received a slap on the ass in response, which he took to mean ‘alright’.

Rhett looked himself over in the bathroom mirror while he washed his hands. The bags under his eyes were a fairly darker shade then they’d been yesterday morning. No matter how much he ran his fingers through his hair it persisted in being a wavy mess on the top of his head, so he tied it up into some semblance of a bun. He splashed cold water on his face in an attempt to ease the ache behind his eyes and barely jumped out of the way in time to miss being hit when the bathroom door burst open.

“Sorry babe, but I gotta get in here. I can’t be late,” Rhett ignored the man as he leaned into the shower, hissing at the temperature of the water. 

He closed the bathroom door behind him and set about finding his shoes and his backpack. The dude was admittedly a bit of a dick, but he had a _nice ass_ apartment. It was a penthouse, sitting on the very top floor of the building. The far wall of his living space had a spectacular view, and it felt like Rhett could see all of Raleigh. He stood there for a moment, sighing and thinking what he’d do for a view like that.

He was snapped out of his daydream with the bang of the bathroom door opening and a call of, “Money’s on the counter!”

Rhett rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen to find a stack of twenties sitting under a styrofoam cup full of coffee. He grabbed the bills and started sipping at the coffee, poking around near the toaster until he unearthed a bottle of Advil. He popped two into his mouth and washed them down with the rest of the coffee, dropping the cup into the trash.

He found his shoes by the door, his backpack sitting in a lump beside them. He gathered up his things and left, shutting the door loudly to be sure the man knew he was gone.

Rhett led a glorious life.


	3. More Than A Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link stops for a bite to eat and has a confusing encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I really wanted to get some actual plot-driven content on here so have another chapter !

Link was a little frustrated. 

They’d kept him late at the office, and his whole routine was way off. He ran an impatient hand through his hair, humming along to “More than a Feeling” and trying his best to ignore his stomach growling. The car in front of him inched up ever so slightly, and he huffed a sigh.

It would be a definite shift in his routine, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world if he stopped somewhere to eat on the way home. Then he could simply change out of his work clothes and fall into bed—he wouldn’t even have dishes to worry about. 

On the edge of the highway he noticed a sign advertising a twenty-four hour diner off the next exit, and that settled it. He turned on his blinker and began the slow process of merging through three packed lanes and toward his salvation.

\-----

Link settled himself into a little booth by the window, content to watch the sunset instead of the evening news tonight. A young waitress, perhaps in her late teens, set him up with silverware and a drink and took his order. She seemed tired. Fairly soon after she’d called his order in to the cook she disappeared behind a swinging metal door. 

Sipping his Coke, Link propped his head on his fist and gazed out the window. It was odd for him to be in a restaurant for the first time in so long. He left no room for such splurges in his routine and therefore hadn’t dined out since his senior year of college. He scratched at the edges of his mustache, realizing that meant he hadn’t gone out to eat in nearly three years. Well, his routine was foolproof, he supposed. He felt very smart for ignoring such unnecessary costs so successfully, and figured tonight was simply one mistake he wouldn’t have to make again. He was snapped out of his daze by the clink of dishes on his table and looked up to face an employee of the restaurant who was certainly _not_ his waitress.

“Here you go, sir,” said the alarmingly tall man who stood beside him, balancing multiple plates of food on his arms and delicately placing each one in turn on his table. He wore his hair long on top and short on the sides, and the wavy golden strands of it that weren’t falling around his face were pulled into a small bun at the crown of his head, nearly obscured by his little paper hat. A cigarette hung loosely from the small lips that felt somewhat lost amid his thick beard, and he managed to set down Link’s food just in time to pull it from his mouth and tap it into the ashtray on the table.

“Um, what happened to the girl?” Link questioned, and he was met with a pair of deep green eyes and a quirked brow. He swallowed hard.

“Jen? She just got off. Shift change is at nine, so I’ll be taking care of you now.” There was something about the other man’s eyes—nothing was impolite about his gaze, but Link was faced with the very distinct feeling that he was being sized up. He didn’t know how to feel about that.

“But, they let men be waitresses?”

Truly, honestly, Link didn’t mean for that to come out the way it did. But there it was. There was no doubt that he would be seen as incredibly rude for so easily questioning this man’s line of work. He meant it just as a simple query, and now he seemed like some kind of high-and-mighty asshole.

The man laughed easily through an exhale of smoke and sat Link’s ticket on the edge of his table.

“They call us all ‘servers’ so it isn’t so gender specific, but yeah. Guys can be waitresses.” The man tapped his cigarette into the ashtray once more and turned to leave. “The name’s Rhett by the way. Lemme know if you need anything,” and as suddenly as he’d appeared he was gone, off to work behind the counter.

Link set in on his many plates of food, occasionally distracted by Rhett softly singing as he worked and the strong smell of his cigarette smoke.


	4. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early morning contemplation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't follow a posting schedule for the life of me so basically I'm just gonna update every few days lol

Rhett sat in the back room of the diner, his feet propped up on a crate and his tips splayed out on his lap. He still had three hours to go in his shift, but he’d done essentially everything he had to do and there was a little wiggle room between now and the morning rush. He straightened out the few soggy bills he’d mustered and began counting them, not expecting much for a Thursday night. 

Then he counted them again.

And again.

In his hand he held eight dollars. In _bills_. 

True, for seven hours of work eight dollars wasn’t much to most people. But Rhett had been working here for a _long_ time. He knew by now that most people only tipped in change, if they even tipped at all. Yet here he sat holding more paper money than he’d ever earned on the night shift.

He popped up from his seat near the ice machine and burst out onto the floor, rushing to his neatly stacked tickets atop the register. He dug through the pile, wondering how the hell he had a five dollar bill in his pocket and _who the hell_ had left it for him.

And there it was, the only customer he hadn’t checked out. The pretty guy by the window. His total was just around four dollars, so he’d most definitely over tipped by a long shot if this was from him.

“Chase!” Rhett called, startling the smaller man from where he stood nearby slicing tomatoes. Chase glared over his shoulder at Rhett, a little pissed off and a little concerned.

“What the hell man?! What?” he asked, setting his knife down to prevent injury due to future fright.

“Who cashed this ticket?” Rhett asked more quietly, holding up the slip of paper in question. Chase huffed and turned back to his cutting board.

“Me, man, geez. It was from the dude in the corner booth. You and Stevie were both bussing tables so I took care of him,” Chase shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly and resumed his prep work.

“Did you forget to give him his change?” Rhett leaned against the bar and stared blankly at the ticket, wondering if this would get him fired. Or, shit, maybe Chase would get fired.

“Nope. He paid with a ten, and told me to give anything leftover to you. I think you might have an admirer, McLaughlin,” Chase batted his eyelashes up at Rhett. He would have earned a punch in the shoulder too if he hadn’t been using a knife. “I slipped it into your apron while you were adding up the damage for that family of five.”

Rhett slid the ticket back into its place on the register, dazed. He muttered a ‘thanks’ to Chase and wandered over to the sink to wash his hands.

Rhett was brought back to earth by the sound of Stevie loudly greeting a customer. So he did what he always did. He plastered on a smile, nodded to the very stern looking gentleman who was wandering through his section, and got to work.

\-----

The sky was painted in pink and orange as Rhett began his walk home. The crisp air of early October cut through his coat and his uniform just enough to raise goosebumps on his skin. Fallen leaves crunched under his shoes and mingled with the sounds of his tips jingling in his backpack. He took a hit of his cigarette and exhaled, watching the smoke dissipate into the cool morning air.

Rhett lived in a dingy second-story apartment on the poor side of town. His neighbors consisted of single mothers—their husbands lost to the war—drug dealers, and people who were simply down on their luck. Despite the old, drafty buildings and leaky pipes, Rhett was content with his little corner of the world. He knew these streets like the back of his hand; he could easily tell you where to buy a good cup of coffee or find a little company for the night. Everybody knew him, and so long as he didn’t kick up a fuss or pry into people’s business it was good vibes all around.

Most importantly though, it was _his_. His own little apartment that he paid for with his own money. Nobody’s rules to follow or expectations to live up to. So Rhett did what he wanted. Usually he just played the guitar for hours on end or got baked with his friends. 

Sometimes he would wander in to an open mic night, guitar in tow, and stand on stage for a few fleeting minutes of that specific feeling he so craved. Imagine that there were other musicians up there with him, their creativity and his blending together and forging an amazing moment in time. Imagine that the drunken, broken men at the bar were a crowd thick enough that he couldn’t see to the end of it. 

But, it was just him singing old country songs that nobody wanted to hear. If he was lucky, he earned a buck or two for his time.

However, living free and waiting tables didn’t pay the bills. So sometimes he’d step out in the cover of darkness, clad in his tightest slacks and his most flamboyant shirt, and fulfill the fantasies of sad, rich men. He was often bruised and exhausted by the time he got home, mistreated by strangers who refused to follow the rules he laid down. Despite the bloody lips and purple fingerprints on his waist, he got by alright.

Rhett did what he wanted, but he also did what he had to.


	5. Moonage Daydream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes all it takes is a late night in a diner to make you reconsider your whole life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been a little busy with work and family and all, and I just realized I haven't updated in a good few days! So, I figured I should put this up. Luckily, I work in the same "southern-style 24hr diner" as Rhett, so I'll try and use that good shitty job angst to write and post more frequently ! (:

Link sat in his cubicle, furiously clacking away at his typewriter between sips of coffee. The company was working on a big project, so yet again his beautiful routine was scattered to the wind in favor of working late for the second day in a row. He set his glasses down on the edge of his desk and rubbed a tired hand over his face. If they kept piling it on like this, he’d be sprouting grey hairs in no time.

A knock at the entrance of his workspace dragged him out of his stupor, so he hurriedly put his glasses back on as if to pretend he’d been working and turned to face his guest.

“No sweat, Neal, it’s only me.” Alex was propped ever so casually against the wall, tie loose and shirt wrinkled. He put a cigarette to his lips as if to light it, but paused to look back up at Link. He pulled another from its place tucked behind his ear and lit them both, holding the second out as an offering.

Link accepted the cigarette, despite the fact that he wasn’t quite fond of them. But, smoking was in—heck, all the stars did it. He took a big hit from it that instantly made his head swimmy and refused to cough because that’s not what Men do. 

“You need to relax, man. Seriously, it's past ten o'clock! C’mon, me and Mike are heading out for drinks. You should come,” Alex gave him a firm pat on the back and shook his shoulder a bit, smiling down at him. Link coughed and blushed in response.

“I don’t know Alex, I’m a little backed up with all this paperwork,” he clumsily flicked the ash off his cigarette and looked back toward his typewriter, forcing down the sigh that wanted so badly to make its way out of his throat.

“It’s nothing you can’t come in early and finish Monday. At least go home and get some sleep, you look exhausted.” 

Link took account of the heaviness around his eyes and the twang in his back and nodded at Alex. He should head home, maybe eat something, and hit the hay. Cooking seemed like a lot of effort, though, now that he’d realized how tired he was.

The thoughts he’d been suppressing all day jumped to the forefront of his mind in an instant, and it was settled.

“You know what, Alex? You’re absolutely right. I’m going home. I hope you and Mike have a wonderful night. See you Monday!” He quickly gathered his things into his briefcase, flashed Alex a smile and rushed down the aisle to the elevator. 

Alex stood there for a moment shaking his head and chuckling, and stubbed out Neal’s forgotten cigarette. The model man had finally snapped.

\-----

Link sat in the same booth as yesterday, fiddling with the corner of his menu and second guessing all of his decisions. He hadn’t even stopped for a second to consider the fact that it would probably be crowded on a Friday night. The other side of the restaurant was completely packed out, people still dressed up from the football game laughing and talking between bites of their food. He straightened his glasses in an attempt to calm his nerves. What a fool he would feel like if he drove this far out of his way to see Rhett and he was busy.

Though, truth be told, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. He hated to admit it but watching Rhett work wasn’t the worst sight to see.

Link pulled on the sleeves of his shirt and forced his eyes down to the table, mentally smacking himself. That was a very strange thought to have, and it was entirely unwelcome in his head. He’d had his fair share of odd thoughts—things he had to push away and lock in the dark closet at the back of his mind—but to think it was enjoyable to simply stare at another man? This in particular deserved a higher level of internal berating.

“Well, hello! Fancy seeing you here,” Link whipped his head up to find Rhett, a hand on his hip, laughing at his own joke. 

His Closet of Forbidden Thoughts began filling steadily, each one followed by a complementary mental whooping. Link felt his cheeks starting to pink.

“H-hey! How are you tonight?” He got the words out well enough considering how dry his throat was.

“I’m a bit tired, to be honest, but I’m hanging in there. How about yourself?” He puffed on his ever-present cigarette and looked questioningly at Link. 

“Peachy keen!” And another mental slap, just for being stupid.

Rhett giggled— _giggled_ —at the peculiar response, the balls of his cheeks peeking out over the top of his beard. At this point Link figured if he kept on beating himself up for every crazy thing he thought he’d go home concussed. 

“That’s good. You know what you’d like to drink?” Rhett pulled his ticket book and his pen from his apron, spinning it around his nimble fingers, still smiling.

“Water, please,” Link was pretty sure Rhett heard the break in his voice, considering how quickly he rushed away and returned with a very full glass and a straw. Rhett propped his hip on the edge of the seat opposite Link, crossing one ankle over the other and putting his very, _very_ long legs on display. God, Link was parched. He took the straw in his shaking hands and tore into it, sucking down water like he was on the brink of death.

He ordered the same meal from yesterday—miraculously without incident—and sat at the table twiddling his thumbs and watching the taillights of cars streak down the highway. 

He wondered why he had to be like this. Why was it that he had to be so different? All his life he’d been considered strange, since he was just a little kid straight on through high school. The bullies loved him, teasing him mercilessly and shoving him around. It wasn’t until his senior year—when he quit band to take a woodworking class and cut all his hair off—that people let him be. And it’s not like he made those choices for himself in the first place.

On Link’s seventeenth birthday his father woke him up early. He sat him down at the breakfast table, handed him a cup of black coffee and explained everything very clearly. He was going to be an engineer, not a musician. He was going to cut his hair and get a job. He had to do these things because he was a Man and that’s what Men do.

So Link pulled the Bowie posters off his walls and started down the path his father had paved for him, never looking back.


	6. Play With Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhett takes a chance on his mysterious new customer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very short, and I apologize for that, but big things are coming y'all!

Rhett leaned against the counter, brewing coffee and waiting for his customer’s food to cook. Chase scooched over toward him and poured some batter into a waffle iron, nudging Rhett with his shoulder.

“Looks like your admirer is having a rough time today. He alright?” Chase spoke under his breath, punctuating his question by slamming the lid on the waffle iron and setting the timer overhead. Rhett glanced back over his shoulder at the man in question.

He sat at his little table in the corner, biting his fingernails. He looked lost.

Rhett felt a pang in his chest. He didn’t really know the guy by any means, but he seemed nice enough. Whatever he was thinking about wasn’t pleasant, and Rhett was determined to distract him from it.

“Probably just an existential crisis. You know what a late night in this hellhole will do to your brain.” Chase nodded, completely understanding that the diner was a place seemingly untouched by time. A long shift seemed to last days and mere seconds simultaneously, and it was easy to get lost in your own mind.

The timer above them dinged and Rhett turned it off, holding out a plate for Chase to scoop the waffle onto. Rhett sat a packet of butter on top of it and grabbed a pitcher of syrup. When he set the plate on the stranger’s table, he didn’t even stir. 

Rhett returned to the grill and grabbed the rest of the food, this time setting not only the dishes but himself down at the booth. That didn’t go unnoticed. 

The man across from him turned away from the window, and the distant look in his eyes slowly shifted to something more questioning.

“Hey,” Rhett tried to be casual, probably failed. “You mind if I sit with you for a while?” He lit a cigarette and draped his arm over the back of the booth, trying to keep the smoke somewhat removed from his customer’s face.

The other man shrugged and nodded, but didn’t look displeased with the turn of events. The deep furrow between his brows smoothed out a little bit as he began spreading butter on his waffle. Rhett decided this was going surprisingly well.

“So, what’s your name, anyway? I’ve gotta stop calling you mystery man at some point.” Rhett chuckled at his own joke, earning a small smile from the man across from him.

“It’s Charles, but you can call me Link,” he muttered between bites of egg, “No one ever really calls me Charles unless I’m at work.”

“Link, huh? I’ve never heard that one before,” Rhett took a contemplative hit of his cigarette. “I like it. It suits you.” He smiled over at Link, earning a light blush in response. Link nudged his glasses up his nose and took a sip of his Coke.

“Same to you. About your name, I mean. It isn’t every day that you meet a Rhett…” Link met his eyes from across the table, analyzing him, probably trying to gauge his reaction. Then he glanced back out the window, perhaps catching wind of the same thoughts that had swept him away before. 

He jolted in his seat, as if he’d been struck by some invisible force, and looked back at Rhett. There was a facade of happiness plastered across his face. Rhett could see it crumbling at the edges.

This guy was obviously going through something. So, Rhett made a decision.

“Y’know, I honestly shouldn’t be sitting over here. We aren’t supposed to hang out with the customers like this. But, I got the feeling you needed a friend tonight.” Link licked his lips, and Rhett’s attention was drawn to the motion. He recentered himself and continued. “We’re a bit overstaffed, so I’m getting off at midnight. I was wondering if you maybe, I don’t know, wanted to get a drink?”

Rhett scratched the back of his neck, flicking his cigarette too hard and nearly sending ashes fluttering into a plate of bacon. Link wiped his fingers on a napkin, staring blankly somewhere above Rhett’s shoulder. 

Quite suddenly, his entire demeanor changed. An infinitesimal amount of tension dropped from his body, and he leaned across the table. The smile that spread across his face was more genuine and beautiful than anything Rhett had ever seen. Sitting across from him was a new version of the man he’d met yesterday, a spark of something exciting in his bright blue eyes. Rhett bit his lip.

“In that case, I’m gonna switch to coffee,” Link said, amusement in his voice.

Rhett smiled back at Link, not quite sure what he’d gotten himself into but definitely interested in how it would turn out.


	7. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link takes a night off from responsibility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I'm probably gonna regret posting both of these chapters at once but I'm just sooo excited about this one! Our baby boy Link is learning things! Rhett is beautiful! Sorry, I was legit just so inspired to write for some reason this morning, and I'm so happy I did! The next update will probably be a little slower, so hopefully you'll be just as satisfied as I was with this (:  
> By the way, I apologize for the use of the phrase 'funky cigarette' okay carry on.

Link was flying off the rails. First, eating out two days in a row. Now, going to drink with a man he barely knew who made him think _the most confusing_ things? He had to admit, it felt incredible to be so far away from the norm. Even if it was for one night only, Link was doing exactly what he wanted and nobody could tell him otherwise. He did his best to lock the little scolding voices in his head away. 

He’d worry about them tomorrow.

Link met Rhett behind the building. There were employees sitting here and there, perched on the brick enclosure of the dumpster or propped against the wall of the restaurant. Some of them smoked strange smelling cigarettes, but they all seemed pleasant—if not tired—so Link didn’t question it. Rhett handed one of the waitresses back her funky cigarette and approached Link. He’d taken off his uniform shirt and hat, now clad in a plain white t-shirt, black slacks and a blue corduroy jacket. His hair was messy, stray curls poking out here and there. He looked good.

“So, we taking this journey on foot?” Rhett put his hands on his hips and rolled his shoulders, leaning to and fro and eliciting a number of pops from his back. It looked as if he were preparing for some sort of athletic endeavor. Link found this quite amusing, and a laugh bubbled out of his throat. He didn’t make any efforts to contain it—which was a foreign feeling in and of itself— and the absurdity of his lifestyle sent him into a brief fit of giggles. 

“Not unless you’d prefer it. I drove here,” Link replied, a smile laced through his voice. Rhett looked satisfied with this news and gestured for Link to lead the way.

They cruised through the city in relative silence, Rhett directing Link from the passenger seat. Eventually they found a parking garage near their destination. They walked the rest of the way, Link trailing behind Rhett, occasionally pinching the sleeve of his jacket so as to avoid getting lost in the more populated patches of sidewalk. 

Rhett led Link to a little hole-in-the-wall bar, the outside of which was _somewhat_ more dilapidated than the interior. Inside, fairy lights lined the ceiling, the yellows and greens of their bulbs reflected in the framed photos that hung above the dance floor, and people sat here and there talking or drinking or some combination of the two. 

They stopped by the bar to get a pitcher of beer before wandering over to a little booth in the corner of the building. Link poured them each a glass, watching Rhett fold his long limbs into the seat across from him. Rhett removed his coat, piling it up next to him, putting the slight muscle of his arms on display. Link passed him his beer and asked him one of the many questions rolling around in his head. 

“So, how tall are you? Generally I'm considered a bit of a giant, being six foot and all, but you beat me out by a long shot.” He sipped his beer, watching Rhett knock back nearly half of his glass. He licked the foam from his mustache and chuckled.

“Six foot seven. It's a bit of a burden on occasion, but hey, kept me out of the draft. At least I got that goin’ for me.” Rhett scanned the room, taking in the sight of so many men drinking away their past—trying to move on. 

Link shifted in his seat, slightly uncomfortable with Rhett's casual mention of the war. Usually he would do anything to avoid speaking about such unpleasant things, raised to believe that there was no sense in bringing the mood down over something you couldn’t help.

However, tonight he wasn’t _doing_ what he was raised to do. He was doing what he wanted. So, he leaned back in his seat and decided to let the conversation go wherever Rhett took it.

\-----

Link was drunk. Like, _really_ drunk. Probably the drunkest he’d ever been. He wasn’t quite sure how much beer he and Rhett had consumed, but it was definitely enough.

The pair were splayed out in the booth, legs stretched under the table to prop in the opposite seats. Link’s tie was loose, though he wasn’t sure when he’d loosened it, but he went ahead and undid a few buttons of his shirt for good measure. Heat radiated throughout his body, and he was sure his cheeks were as pink as Rhett’s—if not more so.

 _God, Rhett’s cheeks_.

They were the cutest—the _cutest_ —thing he’d ever seen. They had a certain soft roundness to them, and Link wanted to pinch them every time Rhett smiled and drew them out from their hiding place behind his beard. Well, not like some old forgotten aunt would do. On second thought, Link didn’t want to pinch them. That would probably hurt. Maybe just cup Rhett’s face in his hands. Say something to make him smile so he could rub the pads of his thumbs over them.

All in all, over the course of the night Link had learned two very important things. One: drinking can be fun if it isn’t with your dad. And two: Rhett McLaughlin was the prettiest person on earth.

It might be a little bit strange, for a man to be so pretty. Certainly there were aspects of Rhett’s appearance that were very handsome and masculine—as men were supposed to be. He had a well-kept beard and large hands and a deep voice, all of which Link found very appealing. But there was something so unmistakably _pretty_ about him. The curls of hair falling down over his forehead and sticking out from his bun. His small, pouty mouth. His ridiculously long eyelashes. There was no way someone could look at this man and not find him beautiful. He was truly something to admire.

So, admire Link did. He sat and drank and stared, wondering how it was that _anyone_ could look that good—let alone the fact that he was a man. They shared cigarettes (which Link found much more enjoyable while drunk) and Link marveled at the sight of smoke curling around the golden hairs of Rhett’s mustache. They talked about their pasts, Link’s time in college and Rhett’s experience farming with his father.

It wasn’t until they were both well past drunk that Link mentioned it. Rhett said something about having a headache, so he pulled the tie from his hair and let it fall around his face. He then pushed it to the side, the longest pieces of it curling elegantly below his chin, and Link couldn’t keep himself from bursting out.

“How are you so dang pretty?” His words were slurred, but only slightly. Rhett’s blush deepened, and he giggled into his drink.

His response was simple, but it hit Link harder than anything he could have said otherwise.

“I should ask you the same thing, brother.”

\-----

The sun was rising when the two of them stumbled into Rhett’s apartment. Link was full on belly-laughing, still not over the spectacle of Rhett drunkenly attempting to unlock the door. He pressed his face into Rhett’s shoulder, partly to stifle himself but mostly just for the sake of doing it. Cold cloth rubbed unpleasantly against Link’s mouth.

Almost without thinking, Link relocated to the warm, newly exposed skin of Rhett’s neck where he’d unbuttoned his coat. His laughter was somewhat reignited by the sound of Rhett gasping at the cold press of his face. Things died down pretty quickly when Rhett hissed at the bite of Link’s smiling teeth against his throat.

Link pulled back and looked into his eyes. There was something unreadable there, concern but not fear. Maybe pity.

“Did I hurt you?” The last thing Link wanted was to damage this perfect man, to accidently mar his pristine skin with his oafishness. He analyzed the skin of Rhett’s neck and ran the tips of his fingers along it, searching for any scratches he somehow couldn’t see. Rhett shivered. 

“No, was jus’ cold,” Rhett smiled down at Link, shaking his head a bit.

Link didn’t know why he took this as an invitation to return to the man’s neck, but he did anyway. He nuzzled his way down to the curve of Rhett’s shoulder, feeling the tip of his nose begin to thaw. Rhett smelled like wood and warmth and cigarettes, and Link had the distinct feeling that he was missing something.

A hand wrapped around Link’s waist, and yet again he smiled into the embrace.


	8. Eight Line Poem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhett's morning after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm not dead, can you believe it? I'm truly very sorry it took me so long to update this, I've been struggling a bit in recent months. However, I've been feeling some of that good ole randl inspiration these past few days and have been writing more frequently! So, though it's pretty short (sorry about that) here's the next chapter. Thank you for the kind words, if it weren't for you I probably would never have picked this back up. I'll try to have the next chapter up within the week since this one is so brief.

The first thing Rhett saw when he woke up was Link.

They were mere inches apart, Link’s mouth gaped open in a way that was both hilarious and adorable. He was snoring softly, glasses askew, and Rhett watched him for a moment. 

There was a certain boyishness to Link’s face, something Rhett had caught a glimpse of last night. It was seemingly a quality he didn’t display often—at least not during their first encounter. But maybe he had a hard time showing that side of himself. Rhett had the feeling Link had a hard time with a lot of things. He just didn’t let it show. But at the bar, watching Link talk about David Bowie as if music itself was a forbidden pleasure, Rhett saw a twinkle in his eyes that just wasn’t there when he was talking about college or work. He saw longing, and pure unadulterated joy. 

Rhett took one last look at Link’s peaceful face before he rose from the bed. He tucked a blanket over Link’s rumpled suit and gingerly removed his shoes before tiptoeing out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

\-----

Link stumbled into the kitchen just as Rhett took the first sip of his coffee, looking equal parts alarmed at his mysterious surroundings and hungover. Pillow creases slanted across his face and his hair was sticking up on one side. Wordlessly, Rhett grabbed a second mug and filled it with coffee, extending it to Link. The other man took the cup in shaking hands and sat down at the kitchen table. Rhett reached into his cabinet and procured a bottle of Advil, setting it down near Link on his way to the seat opposite him.

“Those will save you from a world of hurt, brother. We drank quite a bit last night.” Rhett scratched at his beard, recalling their stumbling journey through town the night previous. It was certainly not the drunkest Rhett had ever been, but by far the most intoxicating—likely because of his interesting company.

Link squinted at the label momentarily before popping one of the pills into his mouth and downing it with his coffee. He grit his teeth at the bitterness and Rhett’s eyes lingered on the man’s face. The shadow of his stubble enhanced the cut of his jaw, and Rhett was momentarily hypnotized by the bob of his adam’s apple. 

Link fidgeted silently in his seat, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and bouncing his knees beneath the table. He would take the occasional sip of his coffee, grimacing at the taste but never asking for sugar or cream. Rhett found this fascinating, so he was content to simply watch the other man from the corner of his eye and pretend he wasn’t. His discretion was somewhat pointless though—Link wasn’t paying him the least bit of attention. His eyes were glued to the kitchen table, drifting to and fro in the middle distance. As much as Rhett was happy to stare at his strange new bedfellow—one far different than his usual company—he was actually starting to worry for Link’s sanity.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” he asked, tracing his index finger along the rim of his coffee cup. “I’m free until tonight if you want to hang out for a while.”

Link’s eyes focused on Rhett’s face, still a little more caught up in thought than on the real world. He cleared his throat and scratched at the edges of his mustache.

“Uh, well, usually on Saturdays I clean the house, but…” he trailed off, taking another disgusted sip of his coffee. His eyes widened. “I really should be getting home, it’s already afternoon,” he said, a strange quality to his voice. 

He stood abruptly, pausing momentarily to regain his balance, and stuck his hand out. Rhett cocked his head, unsure of exactly what he was expected to do here. He haltingly interlocked their hands, earning a borderline aggressive shake from Link.

“Thank you for having me!” Link nearly shouted. He stood there a moment, staring at their clasped hands. 

Then Rhett witnessed the quickest sequence of events he’d ever seen.

Link blushed, dropped Rhett’s hand as if he were contagious, and practically ran out the door.

Rhett sat at his kitchen table, an eerie kind of quiet settled over his apartment in wake of the strangeness. He took a sip of his coffee.


	9. Stairway To Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link's morning after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised a quick update, so here you go! I'll probably go to a weekly or so posting schedule after this.

Link drove home in utter silence. He couldn’t be bothered to turn on the radio.

The inside of his house was like a morgue—there seemed to be a heaviness in the air he’d never noticed before. Even his favorite chair was sterile and unforgiving, perfectly pristine and hard as a rock. 

He figured he just felt strange because of the deviation from his routine—he ought to just behave normally and everything would settle down. It was already late afternoon, so he set in on the task of making lunch. He spread peanut butter on white bread in a daze, not quite able to devote his full attention to the task at hand. His head felt heavy, as if it were full of cotton, and there was an ache in his temples that neither the coffee nor the painkillers Rhett supplied had touched. His hands trembled as he scooped jelly onto another piece of bread. He didn’t really notice though, far too caught up in the swooping sensation settled low in his stomach.

Slowly, haltingly, mechanically, Link finished preparing his meal and ate it mindlessly. He stood there at the kitchen counter taking slow bites of his sandwich, feeling it like glue in his mouth but not tasting it. He didn’t register the fact that he was standing up and eating—a forbidden act in both his childhood home and this one. His thoughts were elsewhere, nestled between complete blankness and frantic worry of failure and soft curly hair.

After the dishes were washed and Link had taken a well-needed shower, he did what he always did when he couldn’t seem to get a hold of his thoughts. He kneeled down on the bathroom floor and began scrubbing.

He cleaned every surface in sight, moving on to the kitchen once he’d finished, and then the living room. His hands were burning from the sheer amount of bleach and pinesol he’d been using, but it was all worth it. 

This was his tithe. This was his penance. He worked his hands raw until late that night, asking God for forgiveness all the while.

\-----

By Monday morning Link was practically back to normal. He’d spent all of Sunday at church, praying silently through every service, and he slept easy that night. Truly, that was all the proof he needed that faith could fix anything.

He arrived at work early—as usual—and set in on his assignments with refreshed enthusiasm. He was caught up on the documents he hadn’t finished Friday evening by eleven o’clock, and he skipped lunch in favor of knocking out the present day’s paperwork.

He left at precisely five p.m. and cooked a simple dinner at home, listening to the radio and humming to himself as he mashed potatoes and boiled peas.

Tucked neatly into his bed just before ten o’clock, Link felt everything had fallen back into its correct place. He huffed a sigh of relief.

Well, maybe not relief.


	10. Wish You Were Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since they've seen each other, but Link is still on Rhett's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this chapter early because I'm gonna be out of town this Monday (and also I'm really excited to update this because whew boy do I have some chapters written and this story is going somewhere).

When Rhett awoke, the sun had already set.

His apartment was cold, the oncoming winter making itself known, and it took great effort for him to leave the warm cocoon of his bed. Eventually he hauled himself upright, layered up and slouched into the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

He spent the first few hours of the night as he often did, smoked a cigarette with his coffee and listened to Station to Station, played guitar for a while. But mostly, he just zoned out. Thought about things. 

Truth be told, this had been the routine for the last week or so. He would wake up and roll through his usual creative pursuits, but there was always a little interim between each activity when he would get lost in his own head. It wasn’t as if there was anything bothering him. In fact it was quite the opposite.

He was distracted. He wanted something he couldn’t quite grasp.

Since the night he’d spent with Link, his mind was laced through with him. Any moment could suddenly be interrupted with the image of Link’s flushed face grinning up at him over the top of his beer or the sound of him muttering in his sleep. Even his own apartment, after only a few hours of Link being there, echoed with his presence. Sometimes Rhett could almost see him laughing drunkenly on the couch, the joke lost to time but the sight unforgettable.

Rhett thought it was a little worrisome, to be honest. It was definitely a new experience, but it seemed as if Link was brimming with those. He was so _different_ from Rhett. So different from anyone.

So Rhett did know what he wanted. He wanted Link. How? He wasn’t quite sure. 

What he was sure of though was that Link was the most interesting person he’d ever met. The way he seemed compelled to force simplicity onto his life was something Rhett couldn’t comprehend—and he desperately wanted to. 

Maybe he just wanted friendship, wanted a deeper understanding of the mysterious stranger who had popped into his life. 

However, he had the sneaking suspicion that he wanted more. More than either of them were prepared for. And that was what he found truly worrisome.

\-----

Rhett hit the joint held loosely between his fingers and tapped his chin. Eventually he exhaled triumphantly, stooping to pick up the belt he’d decided on. He laced it through the loops of his tight slacks, tying it in a loose bow near his hip. He walked across the room to ash before soot got all over his beautiful paisley blouse. His hair was pulled up into a lazy bun, golden curls coming loose here and there, framing his face in the way he knew his clientele liked. The flared bottoms of his slacks brushed his wrists as he tied his wingtip shoes, his beaded bracelets clacking together.

If Rhett could say anything for himself, he certainly knew how to dress the part—feminine and soft enough for his clients to feel like it was okay, and masculine enough that it was taboo and exciting for them. Hell, Rhett should have gone to acting school. It was with expert skill that he settled into this alter ego, this role he played in the small hours of the morning.

Comfortably stoned, just hazy enough that he could probably control whatever situation the night brought on, Rhett butted out the joint and left his apartment.


	11. Dazed And Confused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link receives a confusing phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we go into some heavier material. _Please_ mind the tags.

Link was jolted awake by the sound of his phone ringing.

For a moment he just lay there in a daze. The second ring prompted him to check the time—it was nearly three in the morning. 

Something was wrong.

He disentangled himself from his sheets, ran into the kitchen and jerked the phone from it’s cradle. He took a moment to steady his breathing before he brought the receiver to his ear.

“Hello?” Despite his best efforts, his voice wavered. The line crackled and Link waited with baited breath. He heard a small noise.

“...Link?”

The voice was quiet and watery, and in its wake there was the sound of labored breathing and passing cars. A lighter being ignited. 

“Yes? Who is this?” Link fiddled with the phone cord anxiously, listened to more stifled gasps.

“It’s Rhett…” A pause, a shaky inhalation. Link leaned back against the wall, trying his hardest to understand what was happening. It had been over a week since he’d seen Rhett. He’d almost forgotten the whole ordeal. _Almost._

“Listen, I know it’s late as hell and we don’t really know each other, but… I mean, you gave me your phone number at the bar and, uh, well I put it in my wallet just because I didn’t know what else to do with it and so. I didn’t want—I didn’t know who else to call. Fuck. I-I need help.” 

The line went all crunchy then, as if Rhett were covering the mouthpiece with his sleeve, and Link heard a distant coughing fit. Maybe even some sniffling and a quiet swear.

Everything clicked. Oh. Rhett was crying. 

Link was probably the most confused he’d ever been. He gnawed at his lip, made a desperate attempt to wrap his mind around this. The line cleared, and he made a decision. Likely an unwise decision, but a decision all the same.

“What’s wrong, Rhett? What do I need to do?” Link was shaking. He felt as if a switch had flipped inside of him, and he was burning up with nervous energy and something else he couldn’t place. 

Rhett laughed into the phone, but there was something so off about it. Link had never heard such a defeated sound. A quiet sob wormed its way through the line.

“You’re so... Thank you. Thank you so much, man. I’m okay, I’ll be okay. I’ve gotta get out of here though,” his voice went distant and Link heard him cough again, heard him spit. “Would you get me?”

“Yes, of course, wh-where are you?” Link picked up a pen and the pad of paper he kept on the counter, wedging the phone between his chin and his shoulder. He sloppily jotted down the directions Rhett gave him, wrote so quickly his hand nearly cramped up.

Rhett ended the call with a quiet ‘thank you’, and Link was out the door in record time.

\-----

Link squinted again at the directions Rhett had given him, but it was no help. He drove slowly down the craggy road he’d been led to, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. It was dark—one nearby streetlamp and his headlights not doing much for the shadows of the city—but it was enough.

Rhett was leaned back against the wall of some obscure business, half immersed in the blackness of an alleyway. He took notice of Link’s car rolling to a stop and stepped out onto the sidewalk, fully bathed in moonlight. He hit his cigarette, and it cast his face in a warm contrast to the cool blue illuminating the rest of his body. 

Link shivered in spite of himself. If men could be beautiful, Rhett was beautiful then—painted in colors on the side of a forgotten road. But, that wasn’t the way the world worked. So Link shook the strange feeling off, leaned over to pop the lock on the passenger door and pushed it open for Rhett.

And then, he noticed the wrongness again.

When Rhett moved toward the car door, everything was off. He walked stiffly, as if he was worried about jostling himself around too much. Link noticed a tear in his shirt as he got closer, dark stains dotting the collar. Rhett eased himself into the car slowly, emitting a series of soft, pained noises. Once he’d successfully closed the door he propped his head against the window, keeping his face obscured.

Link swallowed hard, looked down to see the rust-colored smears all along the backs of Rhett’s hands.

He didn’t know what to say. His usual brand of small talk seemed immensely inappropriate for this situation. He had so many questions, but they weren’t welcome now. Rhett was slumped away from him, his huge frame reduced to nothing, his breathing wet and slow. 

So Link did the only thing he felt capable of. He kicked the car into gear and started driving.


	12. Overs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee and cigarettes and the small hours of morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the link to the playlist for this fic: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLHw9olZoiybOPcllt1Z9klP3XBJY0kbmj  
> Enjoy ! Sorry about the sadness !!

The car was blissfully quiet, and Rhett savored it. He knew they couldn’t stay like this forever, couldn’t ignore the questions Link obviously had—rightfully so. Rhett noticed his eyes darting over to the passenger seat every couple of minutes, a frown creasing his brow. But he remained silent, drove aimlessly along the backroads of Raleigh. 

Rhett thought it was really sweet how considerate Link was being. He also thought of himself as sort of an asshole, waking Link up—somebody he barely knew—in the dead of night and begging him to drive all over hell’s half-acre to rescue him. 

He couldn’t help but feel that he could have prevented this. If only he’d been a little pickier, if only he’d asked more questions. It felt like this was his fault, that he’d brought this down upon himself. That he was asking for it. The weight of guilt and self-loathing piling onto him was immeasurable. He was surprised it didn’t crush him, didn’t make the car lose balance and send them spinning out of control. 

Link clicked on the radio.

They listened together in silence, the music somewhat mellow to go along with the early morning. It seemed like each song was sadder than the last—or maybe that was just due to Rhett’s current disposition. Either way, it hit home. 

They rode on, not really going anywhere (in more ways than one). Rhett stared out the window and watched the sky lighten, felt the tears he’d been suppressing come again. Link never took his eyes off the road.

\-----

The sky was periwinkle blue by the time they’d stopped the car, the slightest hint of pink indicating the oncoming sunrise. They were parked outside a small diner on the outskirts of town, Rhett leaned up against the hood of the car and Link headed purposefully toward the establishment. Rhett had indicated that he didn’t have any money, but Link waved him off with a smile. He emerged triumphantly moments later, a cup of coffee in each hand. Rhett lit a cigarette.

They sat on the hood of the car, watched purple fade to orange on the horizon, drank their coffee. Link pulled a face at the taste with each sip and Rhett couldn’t help but smile a bit at that, remembering the last morning they’d spent together.

“Let me hit that,” Link said, gesturing to Rhett’s cigarette. Rhett passed it over, watching Link inhale and try not to choke. He saved it though, just barely, and hurriedly took another swig of coffee. Rhett chuckled. 

“...Thank you, man,” Rhett cleared his throat, his voice gone scratchy from disuse. “I know I probably threw your whole day off with this shit. I’m really sorry.” He rubbed the pad of his finger along the bridge of his nose, felt where it was starting to scab up.

Link met Rhett’s eyes when he passed back the cigarette. In the light of the early morning, Rhett was certain he must look disgusting. He knew his nose was broken, knew his lips were split, knew he was covered in dried blood. He probably had quite the shiner to go along with all of it too. But Link just looked at him. He analyzed the features of Rhett’s face, expression unchanged.

In his periphery, Rhett saw Link’s hand twitch. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Link spoke quietly, his eyes trained on Rhett’s abused mouth. The sincerity in his voice made Rhett’s chest ache. Link turned away then, focused again on the ever-changing skyline. Rhett hit his cigarette and passed it back to Link.

They stayed like that until the sun was hanging in the sky, drinking coffee and sharing cigarettes. Link drove Rhett home without question, the radio playing quietly in the background.


	13. Welcome To The Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link tries to get back to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty short, so I might do a double update today? I dunno yet, but enjoy !
> 
> Also just let me say here that your comments give me so much joy <3 thanks to all of you for reading, you guys are fantastic

Link arrived at the office nearly an hour late. He hadn’t called ahead to let them know. It didn’t matter.

He sat in his cubicle drinking coffee, trying to focus on the documents he needed to type up or the measurements he needed to check. It was pointless though—he couldn’t pay attention to his work even if he wanted to.

He’d had something boiling in the pit of his stomach all day, ever since he’d watched Rhett hobble up the steps to his apartment. Hell, it’d started before that even—probably sparked by the sound of Rhett’s broken voice on the phone. It felt like he’d swallowed poison, like there was something inside of him that he needed to dispose of. His skin was on too tight, he felt the prick of tears in his eyes near constantly, his tongue didn’t sit right in his mouth.

Link was absolutely livid.

He was unsure of the details of what had happened to Rhett, but he knew enough. He probably didn’t even have the right to be as upset as he was, on account of the fact that they were practically strangers, but he couldn’t help it. 

From the moment he saw him, Link had the distinct feeling that Rhett was more than met the eye. He seemed so big, so powerful, but there was an unmistakable softness there. He was fragile despite his build and absolutely worth protecting. 

Worth holding sacred.

For somebody to take advantage of that, that incredible sweetness that Rhett seemed to exude, they must not have a decent bone in their body.

Link slammed the keys of his typewriter, felt searing tears streak down his face. He knew he was being dramatic and he _didn't care._

Burning inside of him, swirling around with the anger, there was something else. Link hadn’t felt it in a long time, but he knew it had always been there—just beneath the surface. The thought Link hadn’t entertained since his seventeenth birthday, the day he’d changed everything to be his father’s idea of a man.

_This is bullshit._


	14. No Quarter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhett is thankful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, another chapter !!

Rhett left the clinic with his pockets thirty dollars lighter and a bandage on his nose.

The doctor he'd seen was used to this sort of thing—people claiming to have fallen down stairs or gotten too rough playing sports when that _clearly_ wasn't the case. He took the sight of Rhett in stride, barely batted an eye when he reset his nose and checked his ribs for breakages. Didn't question the bruises running all along Rhett's sides and down his arms. 

Rhett was thankful for that.

He was thankful for a lot actually—things could have been worse. It was still bad, but it could always be worse. A few cuts and bruises could have been more broken bones. Lost dignity and some stolen cash could have been his life.

Rhett sat in his apartment and listened to music, took the max dose of Advil every six hours and drastically depleted both his pot and alcohol stocks. After the sun set he took to the streets. He wasn't looking to make any money tonight though—just wanted to walk. Wanted to feel the cold air on his skin, to feel his shoes scuff along the pavement. 

To feel anything.

In the small hours of the morning, while the world was still dark, Rhett fell into bed. He was exhausted and inebriated, but he was alive.

And he was thankful.

\-----

The first person Rhett saw when he arrived for his shift was Stevie. She was counting out the drawer in the back room, flicking through bills and smoking a cigarette in tandem. He muttered a greeting while he hung up his coat and clocked in, and she acknowledged it with the barest nod of her head. He was just about to walk out onto the floor when she actually looked at him.

Her eyes went wide and concerned, and she sat down the rolls of quarters she'd been doling out. Her cigarette smoldered in the ashtray, forgotten.

“Rhett, come for here a second,” she said. 

He picked his way gingerly toward her, dodging the racks of bread and empty crates that were ever-present in the back of the house. She watched him traverse the mess, gaze analytical. 

Rhett honestly didn't know what to expect here. Stevie had always been nice to him—let him bum cigarettes when he was at his poorest and cheered him up when the customers were assholes—but she was still his boss. Hell, she was the one who'd hired him in the first place, and he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he hadn't been incredibly intimidated by her during the interview. There was an air of quiet wisdom about her, and that made her far scarier to Rhett than any of his previous beefhead employers.

To his surprise when he reached her she stood, offering him the only seat in sight. He paused for a moment, not quite sure how to proceed. She was a woman—not to mention _his boss_ —and taking a seat from her went against all the good manners his momma had ever taught him. However, he had bruised ribs and it hurt enough to breathe, let alone stand. He sat down slowly, tried his best to barr any hint of pain from his face. She leaned against the door frame and forced a smile.

Rhett was almost exhausted enough to ignore it.

Stevie lit another cigarette and sighed.

“What happened?” 

There was a lot in that question.

Rhett fidgeted with his apron. It went without saying that he couldn’t tell Stevie the truth, but he felt sure she would see through any excuse he gave. He had no story prepared, didn’t have the energy for any more elaborate lies in his life. So, he just said the first thing that popped into his head.

“I fell down some stairs.” He met her eyes, hoping she’d just leave good enough alone. The look on her face was _so_ resigned, so accepting of this blatant lie. They stared at each other for a long while, until Stevie finally nodded, and in that moment Rhett realized something very important.

_She knew._

Rhett watched her walk over and scratch his name off the schedule.

“I’ll put you back on when you’re better, or when you’ve invested in some concealer,” she quirked a brow at him and ushered him out of the office, silencing any protests he might have with the fact that she wasn’t firing him right then and there.

Rhett shuffled toward the door, clocking out before his shift had even begun. He was pulling on his coat when Stevie stuck her head out of the office again, phone pressed to her ear.

“And, Rhett. Watch your step.”

He didn’t know exactly how she meant that, but he knew enough to leave and not press his luck.

\-----

Rhett called Link as soon as he was out of his uniform. It had only been a day, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to get out of his own head tonight or he was going to lose it, and there was only one person he actually wanted to be around right now.

Link answered on the second ring.


	15. Life On Mars?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link just might be going crazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh I almost forgot to upload ! It's late but hey, here it is lmao

Link arrived at the bar early, waiting for Rhett in that same corner booth they’d occupied all those days ago. He sat there with a pitcher of beer, foot tapping anxiously beneath the table.

He’d been off-kilter since the last time they’d seen each other, and he was hoping Rhett could shed some light on his situation.

It wasn’t like being sick, didn’t feel like anything a doctor could diagnose. It was huge and all-consuming. It lurked on the edge of his consciousness constantly, and he couldn’t help but acknowledge it.

Link felt like something was missing.

It was as if he was listening to a song, but his favorite part was gone, cut out, and he was the only one who noticed it. The world kept moving, everyone else acted as if nothing had changed. But it _had_. It wasn’t the same, how did nobody realize?

Maybe Link was going crazy.

Or maybe he was just listening to the wrong song.

\-----

The sight of Rhett walking up to the table almost made Link wish he hadn’t come. His bruises were beginning to change color, shifting from red and purple to greenish brown. His nose was puffy, and his left eye was still dark and swollen, the green of it all the more intense. It made Link feel sick and angry and lost all at once.

“Hey,” was all Rhett said when he saw him. He slid into the booth with little grace and grimaced at the feeling of it. Link swallowed hard and poured him a beer.

They sat there in near silence for a while, just drinking and taking turns staring at each other and pretending they weren’t. The bar was kind of dead—a few people milled about here and there, drinks in hand, and some regulars were hunched at the counter. Music filtered through the building to make up for the emptiness, but it only made the quiet more obvious. Unbearable, even.

“So… No work tonight?” Link took a swig of his beer, hating that all he could do was make stupid small-talk. 

He had so many questions—questions for Rhett and questions for himself that maybe Rhett could help answer. It was all so unfamiliar though, completely new territory for him. He was used to being friendly, used to talking to people, but there was something about his relationship with Rhett that threw him entirely out of his comfort zone. They’d only seen each other a grand total of three times, only known about one another for two weeks, but somehow Link didn’t want to talk to Rhett like he would anyone else. He had this uncontrollable urge to overshare, to treat him like an old friend. 

Maybe it was something about Rhett’s personality, his cool disposition. Maybe it was a problem with Link—it was a common thought in his head these past few weeks that he might be losing his mind, what with all the odd thoughts and urges and emotions. Perhaps they’d just met at the exact moment that Link had snapped, and now he was latching onto the only person who knew this side of himself.

Or maybe Link needed to stop overthinking for once and just drink his beer.

“Nope, they sent me home.” Oh yeah, Link had asked a question. “My boss basically said I couldn’t come to work as long as I look like shit, so I’m just gonna go broke I guess.” Rhett chuckled into his beer. Link didn’t really think he was joking though.

“Oh. That’s awful,” Link said. He really thought so too. He balled his hands into fists under the table, needed to keep himself grounded. 

Something heavy settled in his chest.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be rough. I lost a good bit of money the other night, but I should have enough stashed away to skate by.” Rhett drank deep, and Link felt words coming out of his mouth without permission.

“So you got mugged then?” He ran a rough hand through his hair, mad at himself for blurting out something so prying. “Sorry, I meant… What happened? Unless you don’t want to tell me. That’s totally fine too. Sorry.” Link bit his tongue, scrunched up his eyes for a moment to internally berate himself.

Rhett kept drinking, met Link’s eyes, looked away again. Link watched him wipe the foam from his mustache when he was done. Rhett pulled out his wallet, sat a few bills on the table under the near empty pitcher, and stood.

“Wanna get out of here?”

Link joined him, of course. Rhett lit two cigarettes, offered one to Link. 

They left the building, and ABBA’s Dancing Queen blared out the door behind them. A man at the bar ordered another drink.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at https://lets-talk-about-that.tumblr.com/


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